From Southeast Asia, I’m known as the king of fruits, with over a thousand types worldwide. People look to my skin for ripeness, but that’s not real, and I’m related to cashews and pistachios.

Though I'm now a lowly wretch, Across man's history I stretch. Spirits fear me when I'm pure. For stopping loss, I am a cure. I can be found beneath the earth. Through me, men all knew their worth. What am I?

I have delicate green leaves and a name you might know, But when I turn into seeds, I have a different way to go. To some, I am citrusy, fresh, and bright, To others, a soapy taste is all I invite.

In roofs high above where I stay, a bright beam in the dark of day. I open to the sky, where the sun's rays fly, lighting rooms in a magical way.

Cows, sheep, goats, and more all have four; while camels, llamas, hippos, and kangaroos have three. We humans have just one, to hold what we chew.